“Intoxicating Silence” by Jennifer Crow
I have grown drunk on your absence, imbibed
fermented peace you left on the shelf
in the cellar, in a jar grown dusty, lid
half-rusted on and sticky beneath my palm.
Tipsy, I wandered rooms you once inhabited—
in a doorway between kitchen and dining room
I tasted your scent in the air, a memory
sculpted from shards of flower and spice.
Or maybe it only used to be a doorway—
maybe this life has new owners
who have different tastes in oblivion.
I cross through new walls, a shiver
in the night, a strong spirit poured
into a chipped glass.
|Jennifer Crow has been writing speculative poetry for more than two decades. In 2017, her work appeared in Asimov’s and Mythic Delirium, among other venues, and her poems in Abyss and Apex and Dreams & Nightmares received Pushcart Prize nominations. You can find her on Twitter @writerjencrow.|